Dr. Martha says it's progress, that learning to sit in my own skin without constantly looking for an exit or way to hide is growth.
I think maybe she's right.
After splashing water on my face and pulling my hair into a messy bun, I take a deep breath and head downstairs. The closer I get to the kitchen, the stronger my heart pounds against my ribs, the familiar tightness creeping into my chest.
Today is draft day.
Today, everything changes.
Jaxon doesn't look up when I enter the kitchen, his attention focused on the pancakes he's flipping. He's shirtless, basketball shorts low on his hips, muscles shifting beneath tanned skin as he moves around the kitchen with practiced ease.
My heart aches at the sight.
I want to memorize this moment, this version of us, in this kitchen, on this perfectly ordinary morning before our lives split wide open.
"You gonna stand there all day, or are you gonna help?" Jaxon glances over his shoulder, a slow smirk spreading across his face when he catches me staring.
I roll my eyes, but there's no heat behind it. "Just admiring the view."
He chuckles, turning back to the stove. "Coffee's ready."
I move to the counter, pouring myself a cup and taking a long sip. The warmth spreads through my chest, grounding me as I watch him work. "You're up early."
"Couldn't sleep." He flips another pancake onto the growing stack beside him. "Too wired."
I study the line of his shoulders, the tension there that he's trying so hard to hide. Jaxon Montgomery—always so steady, so certain. He’s always the strong one, but I can see the nervous energy crackling beneath his calm surface.
"Nervous?" I ask quietly.
He exhales, pausing for a moment before turning to face me. His expression is open, honest. "Yeah. A little."
I set my mug down and move to him, sliding my arms around his waist, my cheek pressed to his chest. His heartbeat is strong beneath my ear, steady despite everything.
"It'll be good," I murmur. "No matter what happens, it'll be good."
His arms wrap around me, pulling me closer as he rests his chin on the top of my head. "I know."
We stand like that for a long moment, just breathing each other in. When I finally pull back, I can see the question in his eyes—the one he's been careful not to ask these past few weeks.
I've been planning this moment, rehearsing the words, but now that I'm here, staring up at the boy who spent years choosing me even when I wouldn't choose him back, everything I practiced feels inadequate.
So, I just say it.
"I'm coming with you." My voice is soft but sure. "Wherever you go, I want to be there."
Jaxon goes still, his eyes searching mine like he's not sure he heard me correctly. "Madison?—"
"I have three interviews set up next week," I continue, my fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt. "Two music therapy programs and an assistant coordinator position at a community arts center, all of them in cities with major teams. I've talked toCareer Services, and they're helping me network in potential draft cities. I might have to finish my last few credits remotely, or even come back for a semester, but Dr. Harrison said she'd work with me on independent study options."
His kiss cuts off my rambling, his hands cupping my face as he pulls me into him. It's not desperate or demanding—it's sure, steady, full of promise.
When we break apart, his forehead rests against mine, his thumbs brushing my cheeks. "You're sure about this?"
I nod, swallowing past the tightness in my throat. "I'm not saying it'll be easy, or that I won't freak out sometimes, but I'm done running from the good things in my life, Jax." I take a deep breath, my hands sliding up to rest against his chest. "I want to build a life with you, wherever that takes us."
The smile that breaks across his face is blinding, like sunlight bursting through clouds. He lifts me off my feet, spinning me around the kitchen as I laugh, my arms locked around his neck.
"God, I love you," he murmurs into my hair as he sets me back on my feet. "You know that, right?"
